KURVENAL. This should she say to Dame Isold’:
“Though Cornwall’s crown and England’s
isle for Ireland’s child he chose, his own
by choice she may not be; he brings the king his
bride. A hero-knight Tristan is hight!
I’ve said, nor care to measure your lady’s
high displeasure.”

[While TRISTAN seeks to stop him, and the
offended BRANGAENA turns to depart, KURVENAL
sings after her at the top of his voice, as she
lingeringly withdraws.]

“Sir Morold toiled o’er mighty wave
the Cornish tax to levy; In desert isle was dug his
grave, he died of wounds so heavy. His head
now hangs in Irish lands, Sole were-gild won at
English hands. Bravo, our brave Tristan!
Let his tax take who can!”

[KURVENAL, driven away by TRISTAN’S chidings,
descends into the cabin. BRANGAENA returns
in discomposure to ISOLDA, closing the curtains
behind her, while all the men take up the chorus and
are heard without.]

KNIGHTS AND ATTENDANTS.
“His head now hangs
in Irish lands,
sole were-gild won
at English hands.
Bravo, our brave Tristan!
Let his tax take who can!”

SCENE III.

[ISOLDA and BRANGAENA alone, the curtain
being again completely closed. ISOLDA rises
with a gesture of despair and wrath. BRANGAENA
falls at her feet.]

BRANGAENA. Ah! an answer
so insulting!

ISOLDA (checking herself on the brink of a fearful
outburst).
How now? of Tristan?
I’d know if he denies me.